


The tale of northern wolves

by Patatarte



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: I pretty much stomped on GoT and changed everything, Jon ISNT related to the starks, M/M, Multi, The Starks are Wildlings, Tormund is in the nightswatch, bear with me, many more people will join, mention of Bran and Rickon for now, mention of Edd Sam Pyp and Grenn, tags will change, the wolves are giant direwolves and they RIDE THEM
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:34:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24235855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Patatarte/pseuds/Patatarte
Summary: Tormund is the Lord Commander on the wall, the north is weak and the south keeps infighting for the throne.One night, giant direwolves mounted by people step close to the wall. "Winter is coming" one of the riders says.What does it even mean ?
Relationships: Jon Snow/Robb Stark, Jon Snow/Robb Stark/Tormund Giantsbane
Comments: 15
Kudos: 44





	1. The strange encounter

**Author's Note:**

> I stomped GoT's lore and changed so many things my head hurts !  
> This is going to be way more ambitious than I wanted it to be, but lets start !  
> Leave a comment to tell me if you like it so far !
> 
> BIG THANKS TO @Miss_Rust for motivating me and beta reading !!!

The north, a land of traditions rooted in old history. Where good men stand proud on grounds sometimes too cold and cruel. Families of noble names have been holding these lands for centuries, never truly bending the knee to the south and their political games. No, the North has a duty, and honours it since men first settled here.

They are protecting the realm of men from what comes from beyond the wall of ice.

People from the south have wild tales about the north and even wilder ones about what lies beyond the wall. If the north can be harsh, the whole territory beyond them is deeply hostile for anyone who doesn't already live there.

Tormund knows it too well.

The man is ascending the giant wall slowly, trapped in a creaking wooden lift, his head almost hitting the top of it. He's holding his black fur close as it is a really icy night and there is no way for him to be protected from the cold wind.

His heart beats fast in his chest, thinking of the reason for his presence here so late in the night. He commands the people here since a couple of years and the only time they woke him up at night were for the surprise attacks of Wildlings. 

Tonight is different.

Tormund barely believed the woman who came to his quarter to wake him up, but why would she lie? Why would all of the people under his orders rush in the courtyard of Giantsbane Castle, eyes heavy with sleep and worry, if not for something important?

The bells and screams of alarm stop before the tall commander reach the top of the wall and there is nothing to listen to besides the whispers of the wind. The night falls quiet again. It rarely is, when the Wildlings attacks. That is what makes the situation so strange: it isn’t an attack.

He finally gets on top of the wall, quickly saluting his second in command, Edd, who looks less panicked than most of the others. It isn't an usual situation for any of them and the tension is high. His brothers and sisters of the Watch, protectors of the realm of men, are unsteadily holding their bows and observing him, waiting for his orders. 

The sky is heavy with clouds, the horizon plunged into darkness. No stars tonight, no moon to show anything, the darkness is hiding the white nothingness away. Yet, down below, where the faint light of their torches glows, many eyes can be seen in the shadows, right at the border of the woods.

Tormund’s heart is now pounding in his chest at the eerie scenery. These are no Wildlings, they are animals looking straight at them in silence. He takes a couple of steps on the wooden platform above the void to be seen by all the Watchers and also by whatever is down there.

He needs to see and be seen.

A dozen of direwolves walk out of the woods then, pacing just far enough to be out of reach from the arrows of the wall, smart creatures.

Whispers grow amongst the watchers, the arrows are shaking in their hands and gasps can be heard when five giant direwolves, at least four times bigger than regular direwolves, slowly walk out of the dark woods as well, standing still and silent.

Regular direwolves are already big, the size of a lion for the biggests, but these ones ? One hit from their paw could probably rip a man in half, their heads are massive, almost the size of a man, and there is no doubt that they can bite the head off someone like nothing. They are bigger than horses, and their fur make them look even bigger. Truly terrifying beasts.

Four of them are mounted by people.

-

Many tribes can be found in the north beyond the wall, a variety of human Wildlings like fishermen, raiders, the flesh-eaters. And then there are the ones you never see unless they want to be seen, which happens rarely. Tormund encountered the latter only once in all of his years on the wall, and they weren't even a threat to him like most of the wildlings tribes can be.

Two or three years ago, right when Tormund became Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch, the man-eaters accompanied by unknown wildlings, tried to raid Giantsbane castle in hopes to pass south of the wall. A desperate attempt, ill-prepared and easily stopped. 

Still, the remaining wildlings who tried to retreat got stopped by ferocious adversaries.

The fleeing Wildlings passed the trees, out of view of the wall's watchers, when loud howls started being heard. At first, Tormund thought they were coming to backup the man-eaters but he got proven wrong quickly when screams of pain and agony came to them, mixed with growlings of animals and the noises of weapons clashing.

Tormund and his men waited the whole night, tense, thinking that another attack was coming. But nothing more happened. So, at dawn, still careful, he gathered some men to quickly bring their fallen back south of the wall for proper burials, and to burn the others.

That is when he saw them.

Right at the edge of the forest there was a giant direwolf with red eyes and white fur tainted with blood. Sitting on it, or more so ridding it, was a man with dark curly hair. He looked at him, curious but not foolish, his gaze was the one only experienced warriors possess.

For the first time, a man from south of the wall could really observe a silent rider, and it wasn't like the books said, at all. 

Despites looking ferocious, with a bit of red smeared on his face, the man wasn't wearing classical wildling’s clothing. He wasn’t wearing a vulgar pelt armour, but a rather nice carved dark grey leather armour with pieces of pelts included in it. The leather didn’t look so different from the leather armours the Night's Watch uses. It also was decorated with what seemed like finely carved bone and a bit of iron underneath looking like some pieces of chainmail. On his back was a thick direwolf's fur, the skull used as a hood, protecting him from the cold and probably also used for camouflage.

Tormund couldn’t get a clear look at the weapons but what he saw was a spear looking more like a knight’s attire than the usual Wildling with their strong, brute and really heavy iron axes and swords.

In fact, with the red on his face put aside, the man looked closer to a lord than to any Wildlings Tormund encountered. Hell, the man looked eve, more of a lord than he did. It was surreal that a man living beyond the wall looked nobler than anyone on the wall at the moment.

Before Tormund could observe more or even think about what to do else or say, one of his men pointed to the rider and yelled, making the stranger and his wolf disappear into the forest. 

They were as silent as the snow falling.

_

Now, Tormund has nothing against them. The silent Wolf-riders never were a problem for him nor the previous commanders for almost as long as records mention their existence.

But you never know.

After all, the weather is becoming colder, nights are progressively longer as well, raids are more frequents and desperate. Winter is coming after a long absence and it might be a strong one, Tormund cannot stay blind to it. 

The north is weaker than ever before, many big houses have fallen over the years, from a lack of interest from the south or simply because some families were at the end of their story. Tormund knows it all too well. The closer you get to the wall, the wilder it becomes. But they still hold the wall, men and women, like one last stand. 

A strong winter could be disastrous.

Tormund shakes his head, those are not what matters right now, these wolves are. A pack of silent ones mounting enormous direwolves are looking up the wall in his direction, and it is possible that many more are hiding in the woods.

Tormund's people are restless, expecting the worst but nothing is happening at all.

The rider with the albino wolf, the exact same Tormund saw years ago, is here but this time he's not wearing the wolf's hood. He's talking with two other riders close to him, their eyes never leaving the tall commander.

Two of the riders are men, and they listen attentively to a woman with long red hair, only adding quick words. Tormund would love to know what it is all about, his gaze breaking with theirs only to look at the last rider, just a bit further away. A young girl, looking right in his eyes without a single hint of fear in them.

What can they possibly want?

After what seems like an hour, the man Tormund never saw before waves to get his attention, pointing to the heavy door leading to the tunnel through the wall of ice. At first, the commander doesn't get it, but then the man jumps off his grey wolf, his thick reddish curls moving with him.

He walks toward the wall, confidently, arms open and looking unarmed.

Tormund understands quickly then, and commands his men to lower their weapons, hearing nervous protestations and surprise. He curses under his beard and walks toward the wooden lift to go down the wall and meet with the silent rider. Just before pulling the lever, he exchanges a few words with Edd, telling him to stay sharp and careful.

Giantsbane's castle is awfully silent and tense during the long minutes it takes for Tormund to get back down the wall and walk through the icy tunnel. 

He wonders if it was a good idea when the gate slowly opens with all of its loud noises. 

There are some of his best men watching his back not too far away, weapons drawn, ready to defend Giantsbane Castle but it doesn't look necessary when the rider gets revealed. The man only stands in place, his arms still open and, at the moment, harmless.

Tormund knows his own strengths, knows how scary he can appear in battle, all tall, red disheveled hair, yelling like rolling thunder ! He knows how to fight and survive, had to fight for his life way too many times to really count. He knows better than to underestimate someone. 

The man may be shorter than Tormund and less wide, but his gaze is sharp and dark for a quick moment, looking at him, sizing him up. His gaze feels dangerous, similar to wolves, like he is ready to take him down if needed. His confidence is impressive. He has the expression of a warrior who will not bend a knee.

"So?" Tormund starts, a bit upset by the length of the silence, the sheer cold and the meaning of all of this.

"Winter is coming," is the answer, a sentence the man probably said too many times in his seemingly still young life.

"Yes, we could feel it. And?" Tormund feels restless, if only because of everything the Night’s Watch has done to the people from beyond the wall.

The men of Giantsbane castle used to raid Wildling camps beyond the wall, a "necessary regulation" the previous commander said. That's what they were here for, after all, keeping the north safe from the Wildlings, not giving them a chance to pass south of the wall! But killing the Wildlings, the children, pregnant women...that never sat well with Tormund.

That is why he was elected Lord Commander after the previous one died, and why he could change some rules. He truly hopes he hasn't been wrong.

The rider doesn't seem to despise him at all, he is patient and adds more. "It is bringing ice, despair and death in the form of blue-eyed walkers."

Tormund frowns then. He heard the tales about white walkers, the legends grandmas love to tell children to keep them behaving, along with stories of giants and whatnot. Hell, he lived through three winters already, one on that exact wall. No walkers nor riders back then, so why would it be different now?

"You don't believe me," the man seems to lose his composure for a second but puts himself back on track after a quick reflection. "I should probably introduce myself to start."

Tormund is intrigued by the attitude of the man. He lives in the wild north, the cold, the tribes, the wild animals. But unlike most Wildlings or even most watchers, he is talkative, polite, even a bit charming.

"My name is Robb, and I talk in the name of the Starks."

It means nothing to the Lord Commander, the only thing he knows is that the Night’s Watch saw riders from afar for decades and longer and speculated about them a lot without actually knowing a thing.

"Is Stark the name of your tribe ?" he asks, receiving a nod from the rider. "I saw one of yours years ago, him." 

His gazes move toward the dark-haired rider and Robb doesn't even follow his gaze, only smiles, halfway genuine and halfway scary.

"Yes, that time.." he pauses for a couple of seconds, seemingly lost in memories, before continuing. "His name is Jon, and he is the reason we are now talking instead of fighting."

It probably wasn't supposed to sound threatening at all, but Tormund cannot help but remember that they are enemies after all. He wishes he has his axe in hand, just in case.

"You are the head of this place, right ?" Robb asks, but he looks like he already knows the answer.

"I am. Lord Commander Tormund Giantsbane."

The rider smiles and bows his head, saluting him officially. It looks unreal, how can they even know how to salute lords in that wildling wasteland ? Are they related to those cursed Mormont or else ? After all, with boats, you can easily go north of the wall, not that there would be any reason for it.

"Who are you linked to ?" Tormund doesn't like this, feels like he's about to deal with an attack from the south.

"What do you mean ?" To his credit, the rider genuinely looks confused by the question.

"You look like a sort of lord, you have manners like a lord. Who taught them to you? Which fucked up lord took the sea and decided to make friends in the north ?"

Robb's face twitches for less than a second, and Tormund wonders if it's because he's slowly seeing through the mask of whatever is going on.

"Listen…" Robb starts, his voice low and vaguely threatening. "I am not the one you should ask for the details of our history but… We are a really old tribe, we probably share the same roots as you, and at one point in history we even fought side by side. So, I don't know how the south treat the memory of his past, but us, the Starks, we remember."

He quickly turns to look at the riders, his people, before looking right back into Tormund's eyes, determined.

"You, on the wall, aren't supposed to keep the northerners at bay. You are here to protect the green lands from the death the white walkers bring with them. The Starks are fighting for every man south of them for ages, through the icy winters and long nights."

He looks desperate, hitting on his chest with one hand, trying to convey his sincerity. Tormund wants to believe him but it sounds so far fetched...

"We bled for you all, and the long winter is upon us, we cannot fight alone."

His despair painfully reminds Tormund of his family, their plea to keep the north together, for strength, safety, for the future. His north is now in ruin. Even if he could, what help could he offer?

"You want us to join the fight in the cold ? We'd all freeze before reaching wherever your tribe is." Tormund is real, no watchers would survive that, it's becoming too cold.

"That's not what we're asking." 

"Then what?" He is getting angry, from the stress of what is about to be said. 

There is too much happening south of the wall already, lords are killing each other for political reasons, they changed their kings too many times for anyone to follow. The south is messy, the north is weak, the deep north could take them down if they truly wanted to…

"Our only chance, and I mean you southerners and us, is to all go south of the wall and prepare to fight."

Tormund laughs, too loud, even for himself. Letting the Wildlings in the North ? Is he kidding? The remaining northerns families would go nuts over it, and if the south learned about it ? It'll end in a massacre. Not mentioning that most of the Wildlings hate them and would only take the chance to get revenge and be free of the cold hellscape they live in.

Not on his watch.

"Sorry but that will not happen."

"In a way or another, it will happen." Robb's attitude becomes almost hostile. Tormund stands his position, ready for anything. "We don't want a war. We want to survive."

"Wildlings raid beyond the wall, you know that? You aren't exactly loved there."

"You on the wall only go north to murder blindly, so I think it's sadly only fair."

He has a point. But that cannot happen anyways. Tormund knows too many people who lost someone because of the Wildlings. Even if he doesn't want unnecessary killings, it doesn't mean most of the people will accept refugees. He knows most won't.

"Lord Commander Giantsbane…" Robb's voice is quiet, "Either you accept people going south, or you'll have to stop them all from trying. And no matter which decision you take there, you'll have to fight against the White Walkers as well."

There aren’t enough people in the Night’s Watch to stop repeated attacks from Wldlings, not enough new recruits. The south doesn't care and the north is busy infighting. They can lose the wall if the Wildlings join their force and Tormund will die trying to protect it.

"Do you think that, if I tell the lords of the south that wildlings riding giants wolves came to warn us against White Walkers, devils from old tales coming for us all, they'll believe me ? Do you think that accepting Wildlings in our lands will not end in a bloodbath ?"

Tormund would love to have it as simple as that guy wants things to be. But right now, their talk is going nowhere and the frustration becomes clear on the rider's face. Tormund has his hands tied either way. 

He thinks the rider is about to turn around and leave but it doesn't happen. Robb's features soften as he sighs. He hasn't given up, seemingly thinking to find a way to convince Tormund.

"Let my sister convince you," he blurts out, "She can explain better than me what is going to happen. Or..." He hesitates, looking back at his people. "Or come with us, so we'll show you. You don't believe in the White Walkers ? Come see them."

He looks back at the Lord Commander, his blue eyes piercing and silently pleading. Tormund wants to believe him, because the rider seems so desperate to be listened to, but also, if what he says is true, that is worse than anything they could have imagined.

"It isn't an easy decision but think about it, Lord Commander Giantsbane. You have until dawn, we'll wait here until then if you want to ask more. If you don't show up at dawn, we'll know your answer."

With that said, he leaves. If Tormund wants to stop him, he has his voice to do it, but that doesn't happen. Tormund just watches as the rider goes back to his peers, exchanging silent words, all four of them looking back at him with unreadable faces. 

There is too much to think about, way too much to unpack. The White Walker being more than a legend? The Wildlings all wanting to go south of the wall ?

As the gate slowly closes down, Tormund walks faster, already planning on getting all of the literate people to read every damn book in the castle to find any mention of the White Walkers.


	2. A young pack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Wolfriders are waiting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll try giving bigger chapters next !
> 
> Thanks to @Miss_Rust for the beta once again !!

Robb walks away, a little part of him feels scared as his back is exposed to the arrows on the wall. You never know what can kill you and a dozen archers can be reckless at the worst moment. Who knows what the Lord Commander can do.

They played a wild card.

He only relaxes slightly once he reaches the other riders, his family, his everything. They all step down their wolves, circling him and expecting his words. He gently grabs the neck of the long-haired, redheaded woman, pulling her close, their forehead touching briefly before he lets her go and does the same to the two others. 

He needs their strength and they need his.

They stay close, almost sharing the same air. The giant wolves are nosing at their heads curiously, wanting to ease the tension. The riders aren't trying to impress anyone at the moment, they are just Wolfriders, young ones, trying to reassure each other.

Robb finally breaks the silence, his gaze falling on the tense archers still aiming at them, too far to reach but not looking away. 

"We have to be patient."

The future is uncertain. They have no way of knowing if the Lord Commander will believe them, if they will be able to pass south and gather their strength to fight back the danger coming for them all.

Only time will tell.

Three of the giant direwolves leave with the smaller ones, disappearing in the woods to hunt their food. Two of them stay, lying on the snow as the riders sit close to them to gather warmth for the hours to come.

Robb's wolf stayed, as well as his youngest sister’s one, and the first seems as concerned as his rider. His eyes are not leaving the top of the wall and the flames dancing on it. It isn't the first time they see the wall but now, and more than ever, Robb thinks about the possibility to have to fight their way through it.

"Robb, come back to us," says a low voice beside him. It comes from Jon, with the littlest smile on his lips. 

The three riders are looking at Robb, needing him with them at that instant, back to the now. Jon is holding small roots that he breaks into pieces before sharing them with him.

They are exhausted. It took them long days before reaching the wall, taking many more nights to hunt and gather enough food for them and their wolves. Being so far from their home in these troubled times isn't easy. They have more family close to the real threat, holding as strong as they can, preparing to leave everything behind.

Robb thinks about his siblings. About his sister Sansa, the smart long-haired woman holding so much pressure on her shoulders. She is younger than him but holds a bigger place in the tribe. She is to become the leader of the pack soon, so close to dark times.

Then there is Arya, the youngest sister, reckless and thirsty for adventures. Young and dangerous to herself more than anyone else at the moment. There is no denying that she is training a lot, but she isn't yet strong enough to face White Walkers or the wrath of humans. Robb fears for her innocence.

And his little brothers, Bran and Rickon back home. Even if Rickon is already sharing a strong bond with his wolf, he still is really too young for what is going to happen. His childhood as a Stark already has a lot of disadvantage, but at the dawn of a long winter, it is even worse.

Bran isn't really better, the young boy is following an intricate ritual to become a "Seer Raven", which he started at a really young age. The Weirewood tree and the wolves chose him, it is a great honour. Bran is a key to their culture, their survival and above all, he is Robb's brother. He knows that the young boy is safe at the moment, but even with protection and soon, all-seeing abilities, he's still just a kid.

They all fear for their tribe and more.

The riders share their small meal in silence, the cold and darkness surrounding them. It is alright, they are used to it, if anything it is less cold here than what they are used to. Also, their sight is actually really good in the dark, one of the perks of the Starks tribe. 

And mostly, they are together and safe at the moment. The wolves are attentive to their surroundings, the woods are silent and the wall is dimly lit and not a danger for the time being. That is why Arya ends up curling herself against her wolf and Jon, seeking a bit of rest as she stayed awake to hunt the night prior.

Robb decides to talk once he's sure his little sister fell asleep, safe and at peace. He whispers to the two others, his eyes now on his resting sister. "They forgot our name. They forgot the Starks and said the White Walkers were only a myth."

The woman with the red long hair does not seem surprised by it, in fact, she only looks disappointed. 

"I am not really surprised. Mother told us about the men wearing black becoming aggressive toward the tribes generations ago, when they shouldn't have been. Something changed, the last time the Starks went to the wall was so long ago, most men there probably don't know anything about the north."

"How could they forget their past while still holding the wall ?" Jon whispers confused, a question without any answer.

"The Lord Commander's name is Giantsbane," Robb adds, deep in thoughts.

That family name is old, but the Wildlings remember it, the Stark's tribe remember it. Giantsbane, the family who stood at their side aeons ago. If only they could remind the Lord Commander of his ancestors' noble fight.

"We should rest, not a lot of hours separate us from dawn," Sansa says with a little smile.

She moves closer to the sleeping girl, wrapping them both in her wide direwolf cape. She gives one last smile to the others before hiding her face behind the skull, ready to rest a little.

Jon sighs, looking towards the dark woods, one arm wrapped around the small frame of the younger girl. His other hand is holding Robb's forearm, a reassuring gesture as the other rider's eyes never leave the wall.

Robb should rest but the tension is preventing him to do so. His wolf feels it as well and a silent conversation is made between the two. The fierce wolf is in his mind like always, the two share a strong bond and the wolf manages to ease the tension of his rider. He makes him understand that he is going to look at the wall for them all.

Grey Wind, a wolf of harsh fights in the snow, is ready for the worst. He shares the worries of his rider, knows his priorities, knows what to do in case of emergencies. While he is attentive to every noise of the night, Arya's wolf, Nymeria, is peacefully sleeping, a younger beast not yet feeling the dread of their situation.

A wolf is a piece of their rider after all.

_

Hours pass and the four riders are deeply asleep, getting as much rest as their body can get. The three giant direwolves came back from their hunt, digesting their meal close to the riders, protecting them better from the cold night.

Robb feels Grey Wind sudden alert, dreaming of seeing through his eyes as the gate of the wall opens slowly. He opens his eyes and sees the sky slowly lighting up. Dawn is near, minutes away. He slowly shakes Jon awake and sees him blink his sleep away. The two look toward the gate, their hearts pounding in their chests.

The Lord Commander appears, alone, walking fast.

Robb stands, shivering as the cold gets to him. His fingers are searching the pommel of his dagger under his cape, just in case. Jon doesn’t stand but does the same. He doesn’t want to shake Arya too much but gets himself ready to defend. 

As the wolves all look up on high alert, the girls wake up but stay low. They probably are also holding their blade close. Robb knows what they must look like right now, all curled against each other, sleep in their eyes. They are definitely younger than the Lord Commander, they must look weak and their fear is probably too easy to read. They try as best as they can, but they do not meet a lot of people, not enough to get used to these situations at least.

The tall man keeps walking until Grey Wind growls, stopping him in his track. They obviously have the upper hand on the man, but killing him would only condemn everyone in the north, they are at his mercy for the time being.

“You are early,” says Sansa, breaking the silence as she sits straight, her face still protected by the thick hood.

“There’s almost nothing in our bloody books, I need-” The man is a bit frantic, nervous around the giant wolves staring at him as well as the riders. “I do not know enough, there’s almost nothing about supposed White Walkers and- Listen, I have questions.”

“Ask them,” Jon urges the Lord Commander.

“Is it true, what is said? Deads coming alive? It can’t be.” He clearly is struggling with what he read and what his current beliefs are.

“Not only do they come back after death, but bones do as well," Sansa answers him, "Skeletons stand and fight against those who they loved once. They only obey the White Walkers and no one else.” She talks like her mother does, the knowledge being passed from generations through stories and songs.

“How?” The Lord Commander makes wide gestures and his voice his loud. The wolves don’t like that and growl again, together this time.

“Calm down, Commander,” Jon tries, standing and going next to Robb. They are so small next to that tall man, he’s like a bear towering over them.

“I’ve heard of magic, that’s an Essos kind of bullshit. The dead should stay dead. Bones cannot-”

The riders look at each other quickly, exchanging their worries as the Lord Commander seems overwhelmed by their words. It must be difficult to accept things when you are not used to them, it must be harder when you go against it. They might face a refusal.

“Come with us to see. That is the best way for you to believe. Come see what your crows will soon face and bring them the words your eyes witnessed,” Jon calmly adds.

The Lord Commander falls silent, deep in thought. It is impossible to know what goes in his mind and it only puts more stress onto the riders. It’s only when the man deeply sighs and seems a bit defeated that they relax a little.

“I guess you’re right. I cannot just-” The tall man is painful to watch. He must have a lot of responsibilities as well, and deciding what to do with the Wildlings most of the crows hate must be really difficult.

Jon takes one step forward, feeling Robb’s hand on his arm, trying to keep him close. He turns to him and nods, confident, convincing the other rider to let him try. So he moves closer to the tall Commander, their eyes meeting and holding their gaze.

“Know that they can be beaten. We did it together long ago, we can do it again.” He slowly puts his gloved hand on the Commander’s arm, glad to not see him flinch. “Your people just don’t remember it, but we do.” 

“Alright. I’ll go with you. I need as much evidence I can gather. Because as much as I want to believe you, most people south of the wall won’t even try without a lot of evidences.”

“Anything we can provide,” Sansa adds, now side by side with Robb, feeling more confident and hopeful than before.

“Give me an hour or two so I can...Take care of things here...Supplies…” The Commander lists things without much liveliness.

“Mostly focus on warm clothes. Anything else, we’ll provide you,” Jon states, squeezing the arm of the man for more reassurance.

“We planned that outcome. Veersuag will be your wolf for the road," Sansa waves an arm toward the fifth of the giant direwolves, an old beast with a white eye.

"We promise not to hurt you!" A small voice states. Arya jumps on her feet and stands small and proud next to her sister.

That statement makes the Lord Commander laughs and thank her as he turns around once again. This time his walk is slow, heavy with what is going on in his mind, no doubt.

Nothing is decided yet, him going with them does not secure anything.

“Do you trust him ?” asks Robb to Jon, as if it is the first time he does.

“I saw it in his eyes the first time. No hate, no fear. If he's more rational than their last chief, we can do this."

They observe as the gate falls shut behind the Commander once again. People are still watching them from the top of the wall. They have to get ready to leave soon.


	3. Leaving the wall behind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is time, Tormund is ready to follow the wolfriders, alone. The future is uncertain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More new lore at the start, sorry but it has to be done !  
> This chapter is on the medium size, I still hope you'll like it !

Giantsbane castle is old, it has been holding on for almost as long as the wall itself. It was the pride of Tormund's family as the strongest hold along the wall and the only one linked to a house. It is also the ban of the Lord Commander, a constant reminder of his family, of their failed duty and dying house.

The flames of the candles make the shadows dance on the walls of the castle's library, frantic as many people are turning the pages of some of the oldest books in there. It is almost nauseating to watch.

Tormund stopped reading when all the words started blending together, his mind full of problems he has to solve, White Walkers existing or not. He wanted to ground himself by thinking of something else than impending doom, but his eyes fell on the sigil of his house.

The mammoth, that damn thing is carved almost everywhere around the place but the worst is the library. Elegant silver in the shape of the animal are displaying the letters of each section.

That reminds Tormund of his home, the one he abandoned.

"Do you really have to ?"

The voice of their new Meister, Sam, brings him back to the now, the cold castle, the chubby fingers of the man pointing to the line he is currently reading.

Yes, the tales are cruel, the cold winter doesn't need anything more than the cold it brings. That is why Tormund has to go see it with his own eyes.

He came to the library to give instructions to his Second in Command Edd and their new Meister Sam. Earlier, he was frantically gathering the warmest clothes they possess.

The two men listen close, trying to take the new informations as best as they can.

First : send crows to the other Night's Watch and ask them to secure their position as much as they can. They need to prepare for a huge attack from Wildlings, not really detailing more.

Second : find a place to move mothers and childrens away from Giantsbane Castle, not too far south since the Bolton are controlling most of the Giantsbane lands and would pick them up to do Gods know what.

Third : try and contact the nearest Lords and maybe the south for more resources. Donations have been lacking and even if some houses fell, the security of the North still needs food and men to be efficient. Winter is indeed coming.

Forth : get ready to take the lead in case he doesn't come back. The risks are real and Tormund doesn't really hope for anything good. Being alone in the cold north, surrounded by direwolves and riders he doesn't trust only seems like a really complicated plan leading to death.

He adds more things, mostly rambling, as he adds more layers to his clothes and hides a couple of blades in them.

Everything is going too fast, Tormund didn't have enough time for reflection and preparation, he had to be quick and think by himself more than discussing with the others and asking for a vote.

At least Sam, the young Meister, promises to look deeper into the books. There is no doubts that he is going to carefully do so. After all, he cares a lot for his girlfriend and baby currently living in Giantsbane Castle.

Even that feels so recent. 

-

When the last Lord Commander died, they were north of the wall, in a place so vile Tormund still has his blood boiling thinking about it. A man, a Wildling, had a safe place. Well, safe for the Night's Watch to spend a night in a warm house from time to time. It wasn't safe for the women living there at all.

The Wildling, Kraster, kept only women alive, wives that also were his daughters. He was a vile monster but previous Commanders made a deal with him, ignoring his awful behavior to have a bit of rest in the wild north. 

Everything changed when a hot head from the Watch decided he wanted to do as he pleased and killed both Kraster and the Lord Commander. 

Many died that day, brothers killing brothers in the snow.

Tormund ended the fight against the ones wanting to abuse the poor women, his axe slashing through their flesh like butter. For his actions and repeated good decisions during the years prior, he was quickly elected as leader just for the time all of them could get back to the wall and vote with the resting Watchers.

The women were free, they burned Kraster's home and most of them wandered to other tribes but some followed the tall redhead to the wall.

Despites the arrival of a couple of Wildlings women, Tormund was officially elected new Lord Commander. Of course the men of the Night's Watch despising the Wildlings women still tried to act against them, but the women stayed in good care, guarded by people close to Tormund to this day.

The north was at its worse then and when the Giantsbane house fell soon after, more people seeked refuge. So yes, Tormund accepted them, men, women and children. Some of the women even joined their ranks.

They badly needed the number and Northern women can be though, more so than most southerners. They were the first women fighting for the realm of men, on the wall.

-

So Sam, their now Meister, who befriended one of Kraster's daughter, Gilly, is now in charge of searching any information on the White Walkers. For the North, for his brothers and sisters of the Watch and more importantly, for his now girlfriend Gilly and her newborn Sam Junior.

Everyone has a reason to fight.

Tormund does it for his friends and the people of Westeros. That's why he joined the Watch and cursed his family after all.

"Who knows how many time I'll be gone for. The castle is yours, Edd, try not to have it crumble on itself before I'm back."

"Can't promise Pyp and Grenn won't destroy everything while having an argument, you know that."

They nod to each others, and Tormund's gut hates the look he sees in their eyes. It's like he's already dead. They should know by now that he is though.

He slowly walks outside in the courtyard and tries his best to ignore the people gathered just to see him leave. The fragile peace of the castle might turn around as soon as he steps out. No one is truly a Commander inside these walls and when the Commander walks away, what is there to stop everyone else ?

The Night's Watch only knows a part of what's going on as well. Tormund held a small council during the night, to keep the panic low. No need to scare everyone with what may be exaggerated by books and Wolfriders. He truly hopes it isn't as bad as they say.

-

The gate closes behind him and he feels awfully exposed and alone. His black clothes are an easy target on the spotless snow, his walk is heavy, his weapons are too slow to even think of stopping a direwolf, not that he won't try if the situation goes sour.

He should be scared for his life, terrified of the giant direwolves sizing him up as he steps closer to them, feeling their breath on him. Yet, he feels safe as the Wolfriders look calm and even friendly, at least some of them. If their cause is true, it's in their best interest to be that way after all. 

"Are you ready, Lord Commander ?" Asks the rider who first talked to him, Robb was that it ?

"I have to."

The rider smiles to him, and even that simple action looks somehow feral on him. Maybe it’s the intensity given by his blue eyes or the way his large eyebrows seem to be on a perpetual slight frown. The man also doesn’t bother hiding the fine blade he's sharpening on the leather of his belt. Instead he gestures to the old wolf currently lying down.

"Veersuag is waiting for you, don't be afraid to hold tight onto the fur, he won't bite you for that."

Tormund looks at the beast, seeing more behind his eyes than what you should for an animal. Well, to be exact, there’s one functioning eye, golden and sharp, the other is white and blind. Still, the animal is impressive in the light of day, how big it is, slightly more than the others around. It doesn’t look bothered by the unfamiliar human in the slightest.

"Come on, tall man, we have a long road to make !" The little girl declares, climbing her wolf and easily getting on top of the animal.

Tormund notices how full of energy and impatient she seems to be. Her wolf looks just the same, turning around them playfully, yapping. He also observes the other woman whose wolf slowly leans to help her mount her, pushing on her legs with her snout. The pair stays calm, waiting.

It surprises the Commander how the wolves seem to act like their riders.

"Do you need help ?" The rider named Jon asks, looking over to the Commander, feet still on the ground but one hand buried in his wolf’s fur.

"I'll manage," is all the tall man can say, walking closer to the old beast with determination but still taking one step back when the animal snarls, his massive head facing him.

"Veersuag !" Robb says loudly in between his teeth.

The rider’s grey wolf quickly faces the old one. Robb’s eyes are looking straight into the beast's remaining one. He talks to the animal but not in a language Tormund knows.

The Lord Commander listens, puzzled, before his attention gets taken away by the dark haired rider's hand on his arm.

"It's alright, he’s just stubborn. Grab a fist of his fur like this." He doesn't hesitate to hold tight, yanking on it a bit. It doesn't bother the animal too focused on the other rider. "And then you put your foot in here." 

He points to a leather stirrup attached to the wolf, like a harness mostly used for leather bags since there is no saddles on the wolves. To demonstrates fully, he yanks himself on the back of the wolf with ease, nodding to Tormund to make sure he understood.

"I get it, it's the same for horses," Tormund grumbles. He perfectly understood the process, he’d have done it easily if not for the fangs and growl of the beast.

Jon slides down the back of Veersuag, next to Tormund. The way he looks up at him is close to what Tormund would describe as wonder. The man has beautiful dark eyes and a face just as pretty. His expression is the opposite of Robb’s one, he has a natural sad look.

"We have to go," the rider whispers to him, patting the old wolf before leaving him to his task.

Tormund does what he was told to do, yanking himself on the beast's back, being a bit rough while sitting and patting the fur as a way to apologize. The beast loudly huffs but doesn’t do anything hostile.

Everyone is now mounting their wolf, the beasts slowly turning around to put their backs on the wall. 

Tormund cannot help but look behind as the wolves slowly enter the deep forest, hoping that everything will go well there during his absence, but also that he is not going to bring soul crushing news. 

If he comes back. Which he will. Even if he misses a leg. He has to. He refuses to die in the icy lands.

“You’ll come back to your lands, Lord Commander.” 

Robb and his wolf are next to him. The two wolves are walking at the same pace, despites Tormund's one being slightly bigger. The rider didn't look at him while saying this, but he sounded determined enough. He probably seeks to return to his own home in the deep north as soon as possible.

“Do you live in tents, or in one place ? In caves maybe ? ” Tormund finds himself asking. 

He is curious because of how different they are from the Wildlings he met. He cannot imagine them moving around like most of them but who knows, they already go against everything he thought he knew about the High North.

“We live in Winterfell,” the answers comes from Jon, whose wolf is not far from Robb’s one. “An old castle mostly buried in ice.”

Robb smiles, probably thinking about the place with affection. “When the sun shines, some rooms glow as a blue light passes through the ice.” He turns his head to Jon and Tormund cannot see his expression, only Jon’s reaction to it, a slight blush and a shake of the head. “It is when you know a good day is upon us."

"Sounds too good to be true…”

These lands aren’t to be romanticized. They are cruel, filled with cannibals, freezing to the bones, nothing here can be pretty in Tormund’s point of view.

"You'll see, Lord Commander, soon enough."

And so begins their travel north, through the haunted forest, sometimes careful and slow, sometimes at a pace so fast Tormund barely sees the trees they pass by. 

The Lord Commander can only observe most of the time, having no control over the old wolf he’s mounting. The little girl is fast, so playful it’s actually heartwarming to see, bringing life to the whole journey. The harsh weather doesn’t seem to deter her joy and she seems to love annoying the young woman a lot, and it works more often than none. The two are bantering about almost anything and nothing while the two men mostly laugh and let it happen. Only sometimes Robb joins in, poking fun at the young woman.

It looks like siblings fun. 

Tormund doesn’t have any brother or sister, but he often observed that kind of behavior from the kids in the courtyard of the true Giantsbane castle. He knows the young lady and Robb are siblings, he doesn’t know anything else. Hell, he doesn’t even know the girls’ names yet, hasn't heard them say them either.

But despites having fun, the wolfriders still show an incredible attention toward their surroundings. The wolves’ ears are often moving towards the sounds of the forest, from simple trees cracking, to animals and possible Wildlings. Tormund is impressed by the synchronisation the riders have with their wolf, how when the animal turns its head in the direction of a noise, the rider does as well, without any delay.

The Commander wonders how these people even tamed such beasts. He will ask, to satiate his own curiosity but also to get some knowledge on the tribe for the archives. He is living something no other Watcher went through for as long as their records go after all.

For hours and hours, it’s more of the same : the wolves take them further north. Jon keeps close, probably making sure the old wolf is treated well, or maybe it’s to make sure the wolf doesn’t just throw him on the ground and kill him. That wouldn’t be too far fetched. The three other are leading the group, the one named Robb often moving from the head to the tail of the group to check their surroundings.

“You must have questions ?” Jon ends up asking, looking a bit sheepish by doing so. 

He seems to be the least comfortable with having a stranger around. He looks like a different man than the first time Tormund saw him. It was after a battle after all, all bloodied that he was. Some men have a different behavior after entering a surviving mindset.

“I have many. But I guess you have a lot for me too.” Tormund sees how it seems to piques the man’s interest in the way he licks his lips, eyes shining.

“I may have.”

“What about a balanced exchange ? You ask first.”

Jon frowns a little but then nods, sitting straighter on his white wolf. He looks clearly interested in what the wall really is, or what is south of it, deep in thought for a perfect first question. 

As he thinks about it, Robb comes near, observing the two with amusement before simply going behind them, observing their surroundings once more. He doesn’t ask what they are doing, he just let it happen.

“Why are you wearing black ?”

The question makes Tormund laughs, he didn’t expect it. Hell if he knows ! He thinks about it, hard, but doesn’t think he has a good answer for it.

“I mean, it’s how it is ? The Night’s Watch always wore black clothes.”

“But why ? It’s so easy to spot on the snow.”

Tormund only shrugs, because he genuinely doesn’t know. Someone decided to make them wear black at some point in history, the why isn’t that important, he supposes. The only good thing is how easy it is to spot one of your people during an attack. “Don’t hit the black one” is a useful thing to remember at all time.

“I don’t really have an answer for it. But it’s my turn now ! So...What is everyone’s name ?”

The Wolfrider's eyes open wild as he probably realizes no one got properly introduced. 

"You talked with Robb first, and his wolf is Grey Wind. I am Jon and this is Ghost." He pats his wolf's back and the animal makes a small noise like acknowledgement. "And then there is Arya and Nymeria, Sansa and Lady."

"Uh…"

"Arya is the little one, her wolf is Nymeria. Then there is Sansa and her wolf Lady."

That is better, he has to remember everyone if he wants things to go on nicely.

"And you are Giantsbane, right ?" 

"Just call me Tormund."

As Jon is about to say something more, an arrow passes in between them, silenting him. The soft cry of a dying bird of prey is heard just a few meters away.

Robb is the one who shot it. He's holding a small bow that Tormund didn't see before, probably hidden under the thick fur cloak or one of his wolf's bags. The man looks on high alert.

Jon quickly looks around before stretching himself, holding tight onto his wolf's fur to stay on it he grabs the dead bird off the tree. He retrieves the arrow and throws the dead bird behind for Robb's wolf to catch and devour.

It is awfully silent beside the haunting noise of the bones crushed by the wolf's powerful jaws.

Tormund is confused, doesn't understand one bit why everything became so tense, just for a damn bird. Even the girls waited for them and all traces of humour left their face.

Jon and Robb exchange looks between them and then gestures to the girls in that same heavy silence. 

The small girl and her wolf go right behind Tormund, keeping their profile low. The young lady flanks her on the left, her piercing blue eyes searching in the neverending woods. Jon goes on her right, also scanning the woods. Robb is in the back, slightly away from them all.

There's barely a movement somewhere in the wood and all the wolves start running, faster than Tormund experienced until then. He has to grab hard onto the fur to stay on his wolf, quickly looking behind to see how the riders do.

They are all low on their wolf, faces almost buried in the fur, dashing through the woods, eyes never looking forward, observing.

A projectile coming from the left almost hits the young woman, Sansa. Her wolf immediately turns to the opposite side of it. The other wolves follow her movement except for Robb's one who goes right in the direction of the attack, quickly disappearing behind the trees.

It feels like it goes on forever at that hellish pace, thrown around by the powerful wolves. Tormund feels sick. He never fancied carriages and horses already, but this is so much worse.

At some point Jon also goes the opposite way, his name being called by Sansa as he probably wasn't supposed to leave that way, to break the formation. He doesn't even look back.

"What's going on?!" Tormund ends up asking, tired of having no clue of what or who is attacking.

The wolves stop a second after, breathing heavily. Sansa turns her attention on Tormund then, her icy eyes feeling infinitely more cold than the air surrounding them, her long red hair looking like hot metal, more impressive than his own untamed red mane.

"We're waiting here. For either our own to come back, or the Thenns to get to us."

The Thenns ? It doesn't ring a bell in Tormund's mind but he knows that the Watch knows nothing about Wildlings' names. His ignorance shows on his face, she can clearly tell he doesn't know what she is talking about.

"Arya, explains him."

She takes a bow out of one of the leather pouch attached on her wolf. Her attention goes back to their surroundings and it looks clear that she won't say anything more. 

The small girl sighs a bit exasperated but obeys.

"You don't know who the Thenns are ?"

"No, I don't."

"Weird that you don't know who you're fighting." She doesn't sounds too judgemental, and Tormund would give her a pass anyways, she's just a child. "Thenns are scums. They're tall, bald, covered in scars, and that's their only qualities. Other than that, they are many, ruthless and they eat people."

Oh, so Tormund knows who they are. His face lightens up and so does the girl's one, amused by it.

"You've met them before. Hard to forget."

"I thought Wildlings wanted to pass south with the Starks…"

"Everyone wants to go south." She shrugs, like it's obvious. "The Thenns aren't friendly with people, they eat them. No one like them."

Tormund still heard Robb say that the Starks are protecting everyone. He wants to talk about it but doesn't, seeing the genuine anger Arya has for that tribe. No one with logic would attack people mounting giant direwolves, that just sounds like a death wish.

But they can't do much more than wait. And wait. And wait.

So much that the small girl jumps off her wolf and let the animal go hunt while she climbs on her sister's one, sitting with her back on hers.

They look more and more concerned, their mask of indifference or concentration slowly falling as time passes. They are just young and worried for their own, just humans.

Suddenly Sansa's wolf, Lady, howls. The sound is so powerful it vibrates through Tormund's body, his ribcage, his head. It is haunting and deafening for someone not used to it. It is so much more powerful than regular direwolves.

But the result is worth it as two distant howls are heard. The two girls visibly relax, Arya even smiles wildly.

"They're coming back !"


End file.
